


Zoom

by kjack89



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, COVID-19 Self Isolation, Fluff, Hijinks & Shenanigans, M/M, Zoom Call
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:41:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23966314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kjack89/pseuds/kjack89
Summary: Les Amis have their first meeting via Zoom after the self-isolation order takes effect.
Relationships: Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables)
Comments: 28
Kudos: 235
Collections: 2020 Same-Prompt Fic Challenge





	Zoom

**Author's Note:**

> This is a different take on a COVID-19 self-isolation fic, mainly because I started my [Quarantine AU](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23200387) before my state, at least, actually had a stay at home order in effect. That’ll come up at some point in that fic, but in the meantime, I thought it would be fun to come at it from a slightly different approach.
> 
> Usual disclaimer. Please be kind and tip your fanfic writers in the form of comments and/or kudos!

Enjolras took a deep breath before clicking the link to the launch the first official virtual Les Amis meeting. The Stay at Home order had gone into effect almost two weeks, but with the chaos, Enjolras had made the decision to delay meetings. Between the Stay at Home order and navigating the schedules of those members who were essential workers, it had taken this long to find a time where they could all actually be on the Zoom call together, and even though he knew it was just going to be some of his closest friends, he still felt inexplicably nervous. **  
**

His nerves disappeared almost instantly when the first person he saw was Grantaire, hunched in the dark, a beer bottle just in view at his side. “Are you the first one on?” Enjolras asked, and Grantaire shrugged.

“It wasn’t like I was doing anything else,” he said, a little sourly, “especially considering—”

He was cut off by the tell-tale chime of someone else joining the meeting, and Combeferre appeared on screen. “Good evening,” Combeferre said, and Enjolras grinned at him. 

“I know you and I just talked but it’s really nice to see you.”

Grantaire mimed throwing up. “Get a room, you two,” he said.

Combeferre flipped him off as several more people joined the meeting at once. For a few minutes, there was the usual wild cacophony of nearly a dozen people having at least a half dozen conversations at once, and Enjolras waited patiently for the general din to die down so that he could get started.

As per always, whether virtually or in person, Grantaire, Joly and Bossuet were the last ones to stop talking, and everyone else had mostly stopped when Joly asked, curiosity clear in his voice, “Grantaire, where the hell in your apartment are you?”

Grantaire glanced around himself. “Oh, uh, I’m in the closet – physically, obviously not metaphorically.”

He winked, and after a few scattered laughs from the group at large, Bossuet asked the question most seemed to be thinking. “Why are you in the closet?”

“Because my walls are paper thin and I didn’t want my mic picking up every time a train goes past?” Grantaire said, as if it was obvious.

Joly arched an eyebrow. “Yeah, but you’ve got your headphones on, so would it even pick it up?”

Grantaire rolled his eyes and sighed. “Ok, fine, truthfully, I’m hungover as fuck and the dark in the closet helps. Happy?”

“Hang on,” Feuilly said, jumping in, “It’s five in the evening and you’re hungover still?”

“What the fuck is this, twenty questions?” Grantaire snapped, looking distinctly uncomfortable. “Besides, what the fuck else is there to do in isolation besides get drunk all the time?”

Enjolras cleared his throat. “As ever-fascinating as the subject of Grantaire’s drinking is,” he said, a hint of disapproval in his voice, “how about we actually get back on subject?” His arched eyebrow was enough to silent the rest of the conversation, and he allowed himself a brief moment of triumph before continuing, “Alright, I’m just going to go ahead and mute everyone— There. Ok. So obviously the biggest thing we have to worry about is further degradation of workers’ rights in light of this pandemic. We know the right-wing talking points, we know that they’re going to pivot pretty quickly toward being ok with sacrificing poor folks, and black and brown folks, and we need to figure out a way to safely demonstrate that we will do everything in our power to stop that from happening. We’re about three weeks out from International Workers Day, so I think that means—”

He broke off as his phone chimed. “Oh, hang on a second, I’m so sorry, I forgot to put it on silent—”

Again he broke off, this time because of the text from Combeferre: _You appear to have muted yourself when you muted everyone else._

He looked in horror at his screen, at the 20-odd messages in the Zoom chat, and at the telltale microphone icon with a line through it. He closed his eyes and counted to five before clicking to unmute himself. “Was no one going to tell me sooner?” he asked with a sigh.

“In fairness, we did,” Courfeyrac said after unmuting himself, grinning. “Not our fault you didn’t bother to check the chat.”

“Besides, we’re all social distancing,” Bossuet added. “What did you want us to do, hop in a car and drive to your place to let you know you were on mute?”

Enjolras gritted his teeth. “Preferably, yes,” he said, glaring at the screen. “Though it isn’t actually necessary, considering—”

“Why don’t we just cut to the chase and go over whatever damned document you shared us on before this whole thing began?” Grantaire interrupted. “Because I’m almost out of beer and at this point, this meeting could’ve been an email.”

There was what certainly sounded like a murmur of agreement, and Enjolras bristled. “Fine,” he snapped. “Everyone, open the document and let me know when you’ve got it opened.”

“And how would you like us to let you know, dear leader?” Grantaire asked, his voice saccharine sweet. “Should we all raise our hands when we’ve got it? Blink twice if we aren’t able to get into it? Perhaps bring into song and—”

“Or you could just tell us if you aren’t able to access it,” Courfeyrac interrupted, saving Enjolras from the rant he had been a second away from launching into.

“Besides which, he can tell if you’ve clicked away from the Zoom meeting by using Zoom’s attention-tracking feature,” Combeferre added, a note of warning in his voice.

Enjolras blinked. “I didn’t know you could do that,” he said, sounding surprised. “That seems like a huge invasion of privacy! Should we be switching to another platform? I don’t want—”

“The feature was permanently removed at the beginning of April,” Jehan interrupted, sounding bored. “The easiest way is probably just to see if we’re all in the Google Doc.”

“Right,” Enjolras said, and while it was hard to tell with the lighting in his shot, it certainly looked like he blushed, just a little. “That’s what I was planning on doing.”

Joly let out a cough that sounded suspiciously like a hastily-stifled laugh. “In that case, it looks like we’re all in the doc.”

Enjolras heaved a sigh. “Very well,” he said. “Then let’s get started.”

The next twenty or so minutes of the meeting went without a hitch, and Enjolras felt himself finally relaxing, feeling much more like he would at any regular Les Amis meeting. 

When they had finished with the document Enjolras sent before the meeting, he pivoted the conversation. “So obviously the federal government has been focused on mortgage relief, which is great for the owner class, but doesn’t do a hell of a lot for the renter class. I had Combeferre compile some statistics and proposed solutions, and I’m just going to share my screen with everyone to show those, give me a second—”

“Great time for me to get a refill,” Grantaire said, draining his beer bottle. “Someone chat me if I miss any other great technology SNAFUs.”

With that, the thumbnail of his image went black, just displaying a capital R, and Enjolras rolled his eyes before turning back to the statistics Combeferre had sent him. “Ok, they should be shared now, so Combeferre, go ahead and walk everyone through them, and I’ll just scroll through as you go.”

“Absolutely,” Combeferre said, adjusting his glasses, his tone already sounding professorial. “So let’s start with this chart demonstrating renters vs owners in all the city wards.”

He took over from there in earnest and Enjolras muted himself before sitting back in his chair and breathing a sigh of something close to relief. As little trouble as he had talking in front of any variety of large groups of people, he didn’t do so well in virtual meetings, and it was nice to let someone else do the talking for the moment.

A hand touched Enjolras’s shoulder and he practically jumped up, whirling around before instantly relaxing again when he saw who it was. “Jesus Christ,” he huffed. “You almost gave me a heart attack.”

“Sorry,” Grantaire said, sounding anything but. “I told you I needed another beer.”

“I know, but I didn’t think you’d stop in here on your way back to the closet.” Enjolras couldn’t quite stop the smile that twitched at the corners of his mouth. “Sorry to make you go in the closet, by the way – it was the only part of my apartment I could think of that, well, didn’t look like my apartment.”

Grantaire shrugged. “It’s honestly not bad,” he said, “though being out here is infinitely better.”

Enjolras nodded sympathetically. “Better lighting,” he offered, and Grantaire rolled his eyes.

“Better company,” he corrected, leaning down to press a kiss to Enjolras’s forehead.

Enjolras laughed, somewhat breathily, and tilted his head up to capture Grantaire’s lips with his own. “It’s not like you don’t get to see me on the screen,” he pointed out, and Grantaire gave him a look.

“That’s not the same and you know it,” he huffed.

“There’s only another half hour left,” Enjolras told him. “And then after that, I’m all yours.”

“No,” Grantaire corrected. “After that, you’ve got at least three other meetings you’re supposed to be sitting in on, so forgive my lack of enthusiasm, but—”

He let out an ‘oof’ as Enjolras pulled him down onto his lap. “Yes, but for those meetings, I don’t have to be on screen and I also don’t care all that much about those, which means that you and I can spend the entire time—” He tilted Grantaire’s chin up with two fingers, his grin matching Grantaire’s. “—doing this.”

He kissed Grantaire, deeper this time, his mouth opening against his when Grantaire ran his fingers through Enjolras’s hair and—

“Um, Enjolras?”

Enjolras pulled back from Grantaire, who groaned and leaned forward to rest his head against Enjolras’s shoulder, and reached out quickly to unmute himself. “Yeah, Combeferre, what’s up?”

There was a moment of silence before Combeferre cleared his throat delicately and asked, “You do know that when you present your screen, we can still see you, right?”

Enjolras and Grantaire froze. “Wait, what?” Enjolras asked weakly, as Grantaire repeated, “You can see— Oh, shit.”

Without warning, Grantaire practically rolled off of Enjolras’s lap, assumedly dropping out of frame as he fell heavily to the floor. Of course, judging by the cat calls and hysterical laughter that greeted them, it was far too little, far too late.

Surprisingly, Joly was one of the first to stop laughing, mostly so that he could ask, mock-stern, “Enjolras, what is Grantaire doing at your place in violation of the Stay at Home order?”

“It’s not technically in violation of the Stay at Home order,” Enjolras muttered, his face beet red.

“What in the hell is that supposed to mean?” Bahorel asked.

Grantaire reappeared on screen as he slowly struggled to his feet. “It means, uh, it means we’ve been keeping something from you,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “And when the stay at home order was announced, Enjolras thought it would make more sense for me to stay with him than to stay at my place.”

“How—” Courfeyrac started, his voice cracking. “ _How_ could you possibly keep this from us?! During a mandated isolation order?! I could have been living for this instead of rewatching Love is Blind a million times on Netflix!”

Enjolras sighed. “We didn’t want to tell anyone until we knew for a fact it was going to work.”

“And?” Jehan prompted. “Is it?”

Enjolras and Grantaire exchanged glances, a smile returning to both of their faces. “Well, we haven’t killed each other yet,” Grantaire said bracingly. “So I guess it just might be.”

“Ok, but you have to tell us—” Bossuet started, but Enjolras cut him off.

“We aren’t really going to spend the rest of the time talking about this, are we?” he asked exasperatedly.

“Why, you got someplace better to be?” Courfeyrac asked, clearly still smarting over having not been told earlier.

Enjolras considered it for just a moment. “Actually, yes,” he said. “We’ll reconvene next week.”

With that, he clicked the Leave Meeting button, turning to look up at Grantaire. “What do you say, want to go do something better?”

Grantaire grinned. “Absolutely,” he said, fumbling for his phone in his pocket, where the Zoom call was still active. “Let me just—”

Before he could leave the meeting on his phone, they could both hear Courfeyrac squawk, “Hang on, did he just hang up on us?” at the same time Bahorel demanded, “Wait, how is Marius now the host?”

Grantaire laughed as he left the meeting, sliding his phone back in his pocket before pulling Enjolras out of his chair. “Now,” he murmured, leaning in, “where were we?”

Enjolras kissed him hungrily, both of them stumbling towards Enjolras’s bedroom and quickly stripping out of their clothes and falling onto Enjolras’s bed. After a long moment, Enjolras pulled away to glare at Grantaire’s pile of clothing, from which his phone kept chirping obnoxiously. ”Who is blowing up your phone right now?”

“It’s Venmo,” Grantaire said with a laugh. “Just our friends, paying me what I’m due. Now get back here.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes but went back to kissing him before pulling away again. “Hang on, does that mean that you _bet_ on us?”

“You bet your ass I did,” Grantaire said, grinning. “Easiest hundred bucks I’ve ever made, and when the Stay at Home order is lifted, I am using that money to take you out—”

“To a locally-owned, locally-sourced, vegetarian restaurant?” Enjolras asked, only half-teasing.

“To wherever you want to go,” Grantaire told him. “Now shut up and kiss me.”

For once, Enjolras was only too happy to oblige.


End file.
